


Instead, this

by Emilys_List



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Brooklyn, F/F, Hospitals, Lesbian bars, M/M, Park Slope, Princeton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 07:11:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emilys_List/pseuds/Emilys_List
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two vignettes about love, relationships, and how Gregory House is present even in relationships he's not apart of</p>
            </blockquote>





	Instead, this

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place pre-S7.

Remy has stopped thinking of herself as Remy; enough hours of the day being called by a number will have that effect on anyone. It’s not so much that she thinks of herself as Thirteen either. More like, Hey You.

Yet it’s still surprising to hear someone call out for her at the hospital, “Hey, you,” said with flirtation and love by a beautiful woman advancing towards her in the cafeteria.

She met Saariyah at That’s My Jam, venturing three hours into Brooklyn for what promised to be the best queer party in the tri-state area. She had some serious doubts about this claim until she spied Saariyah at the bar, on a brief respite from her DJ booth. They had sex at Saariyah’s apartment, desperate to be quiet if only for her roomates’ sakes, followed by brunch in Greenpoint and Remy’s calling out sick on Monday.

She likes Saariyah, maybe more than anyone she’s ever dated, if only because she leaves her alone and gets in her face in just the right times and quantities. This surprise visit at work, however, would not be in the ‘right time’ category.

Saariyah leans down to kiss her, her lips brushing against Remy’s in the spirit of chasteness and the workplace; it fails, however, to be truly chaste, and Remy finds herself immediately wet. Fuck.

“What are you doing here?” she asks as Saariyah pulls away and takes a seat.

“My sister’s at Princeton for grad school, I told you that, didn’t I? We had lunch. And I thought I’d drop by and see your office.”

Remy has a distinct sinking feeling fill her stomach. “You didn’t happen to stop by my actual office, did you?”

Saariyah smiles, stroking Remy’s hand. “I did. Dr. Foreman told me where I could find you.”

“You know ‘Dr. Foreman’ is also Eric, right?”

Saariyah nods sagely. “Now it makes sense. Your Black fetish really comes to light.” Remy goes paler than usual and blanches. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding, come on.” Saariyah steals her fork and spears a piece of chicken. “I also met your boss. So handsome.”

Remy’s response is muffled by her face on her folded arms on the table.

“Darling, say that again? You know, I always picture hospitals having terrible food, but this is good! Moist. Succulent.”

She puts her hand out to stop Saariyah, palm out. “Can we just – stop with the chicken for a second? I’m never going to hear the end of this.”

With a full mouth, Saariyah still manages to say, “I didn’t say I was your girlfriend.”

“It doesn’t matter. My boss will put the pieces together faster than you’ll finish my lunch.”

“Maybe even faster,” she hears behind her. She sighs. House lays a firm hand on her shoulder. “I just can’t believe Saariyah hasn’t visited before. It’s just not fair. We need more girls around, don’t we?”

“Among the many things you just said, I most object to her being called a ‘girl,’” she says, spinning around and glaring at him.

He looks back at her, all faux confusion. “I don’t know what you mean. We’re all girls here. We should be talking about other girls, and how we kiss, and what we do at night - preferably with the lights on. Just normal workplace small talk.”

“Don’t you have a patient with asphyxia and endocarditis to attend to?”

“Don’t you?” He shoots back.

She points to the remnants of her lunch. “I’m on a break.”

“But Redhead Toddler needs a liver biopsy immediately. And I’m about to split dessert with Saariyah and hear all about how you two met.”

Saariyah is beaming and Remy thinks maybe she hasn’t picked all that well after all. Dim is surprising. She shakes her head. “Fine,” she spits out, standing and ducking slightly to kiss Saariyah’s cheek. “You have fun. See you tomorrow.”

Saariyah grins up at Remy and she knows her eyes are on her ass as she walks away. It’s a small victory in the larger moment of House’s predictable manipulation.

+

Ginger’s is in the heart of Park Slope, which itself is the lesbian heart of Brooklyn. It is a comfortable bar with a jukebox and a mix of hot women and men. It is exactly the type of place where Remy prefers to spend her time, especially if she is surrounded by said hot women and men AND her hotter-than-anyone-else-there girlfriend. Saariyah is being very flirty, kissing her neck and whispering in her ear. Remy polishes off her bourbon and is about to drag them away and to bed when she spots a familiar face in the crowd.

At first she thinks, ‘Hey, that gay guy in the corner looks a lot like Wilson.’ Then she thinks, ‘Hey, that’s actually Wilson.’ And then the context of their shared location really kicks in and she is at once scandalized and confused. Without thinking, and with spirits in her system, she crosses the room immediately. “Wilson! What are you doing here?”

Even in the dim light she can tell when he blanches and his face turns to horrified. “Straight people come here too,” shoots out of his mouth and she has to try hard not to laugh.

“Okay. This is my girlfriend Saariyah. Saariyah, this is Dr. James Wilson. He’s the head of the oncology department.”

“Nice to meet you, Saariyah. And I’m meeting someone here. A friend. Just a friend.”

Remy smiles widely, amused. “‘A friend, just a friend.’ Someone wearing leather chaps? Boxer briefs? A deep vee t-shirt?” His brow screws up, clearly not versed in wardrobe trends of the gay community. She sighs. Fine. She watches his face change, almost imperceptibly, and learns the reason when a tall man about his age ambles over - wearing a peacoat over a sweater and jeans, not leather.

She learns through her quick investigative skills that Wilson’s “friend” is named Graham, he lives in Park Slope brownstone he’s restoring himself, is a cardiologist, and they met - well, how they met isn’t so important. Wilson is eager to take Graham to the bar and buy another round, and they’re gone before she processes it.

Saariyah rests her cheek on Remy’s shoulder. “He looks a little like House.”

“From what little I’ve observed, they’re usually like House. I think looking like him too is a new development.”

They sit down for drinks with Wilson and Graham, making awkward small talk. When she thinks she sees Graham almost brush Wilson’s hand with his fingertips, she decides it’s a perfect time for them to exeunt. Need to head into work this weekend, dying patient, etc. She’s eager to get out and he’s eager to believe whatever she’s selling. They shake hands with Graham, she kisses Wilson’s cheek, and they’re out the door into the brisk January evening.

Saariyah goes to light a cigarette and Remy pushes her hands down and away, cupping her cheeks. “I’m not saying I don’t support your right to pollute your body in any fashion you’d like, but,” she says before leaning in for a long kiss. When she pulls back, she notes that Saariyah’s pupils are dilated. She pecks her lips and takes her hand in hers. Saariyah tucks the cigarette and lighter away in her jacket pocket.

As they walk together, only the sounds of Fifth Avenue surrounding them, she thinks about Wilson and feels bad for him, existing as he does in the safe harbor of heterosexuality and delusion. He can have his thin wives and bombshell girlfriends, and expand his repertoire to include dashing secret boyfriends, but all the while what he wants, who he really wants, sits at home none the wiser. If he'd allow himself some freefalling freedom, he might finally learn what content feels like.

Saariyah squeezes her hand. "It feels like it's gonna snow. Can’t wait to get home."

"Can’t wait to get home," Remy agrees.

/end.


End file.
